littleadventuresinouterspace

Im back. Oh yes, Im back, and I am me, and I am here and I am living my life like I want to live it. Retrospectively. Its good to be reflective, we dont learn things by doing them or reading or any of that, we learn by being reflective and recognizing mistakes or recognizing what is right for us.

One chapter is coming to an end, but change is good and welcome now. I have made a lot of changes and each one has served its purpose, to show me or teach me something, and will be makign this change having learned a great deal, about people, places, relationships, how people live in a country like Peru. It is a difficult life here, a culture with so many different races, prejudice and macho men. Walking down the street and receiving disrespectful comments but feeling helpless cause no one would defend you if you reproached them..that will always be difficult, for any proud woman.

Walking through the jungle with its sounds and hot breath sending sweat streams down your back. Sitting on your surfboard in the water watching the sun set twice on the pacific horizon. Wandering through old ruins trying to imagine what it was like to live here back then. Watching people in villages like Canta, way up in the mountains with breathtaking views and sheep herders. Colonial Lima, snow-capped Salcantay, hidden Choquequirao with the donkey and areiro. Wow...how amazing can life be. How beautiful was each one of these precious moments.  

Listening to a woman like Ms Mur crying in the corridoor just because she is well, hysterical...its all part of it. The chaos of Peru.

Its Sunday, Im a bit hungover after a wedding last night, Lima upper class is so upper class, all the women with their fur coats, beautiful dresses and Im thrown into the middle of it, trying to hold my own. I never thought it would be like this. People here in Lima are so consumed with looking good, its all image and who you know and who you are with, heads turning whispers. I much prefer Europe in that sense. Im still not living the life I want to but I know I am getting closer and closer, these things take time. Thats for sure. IT would be too easy if it happene just like that.

I reckon that in a few years we´ll have it sorted out. The hotel, the place the people, the life the kids everything. All smooth. 

For some time now I have been wanting to do other things. I have been wanting to paint. Wanting to be able to be with Diego and not fight about trivialities but at the same time wanting to be able to tolerate him when he tells me things I dont like to hear. I guess I dont take criticism easily. Never have, I am a difficult perfect.

 

Sometimes I think too. What am I doing, why am I here? Is this what I should be doing or have I taken a mental leave of absence? What do I want for my life? To fade away into oblivion, known as "the girl who was good at rowing"? THe Queen of Puck? The daughter of Fergus and Delia Foley who went to Peru? What will I be known as now...how identity changes. I am the girlfriend of DIego Caceres, Ms Fiola, friend of Martina and Judith. I think Ive covered all the present labels. But Im no longer someone extraordinary. Im just another one of them. Ive joined their group when I couldnt beat it.

 

Im on my own. Diego is in the north. I am losing myself in cyber space and dont have the money to buy paints or the energy to set up my own space. Everything is so temporary even the idea that we are moving to another flat is temporary cause maybe we'll fight when he comes back and that will set plans back a little more.

 

Maybe I shoudl just suck it up and see how that goes. Just sometimes I cant. I ahve to bite back.

Im a biter, just lacking the bait.

 

 

 

I have absolutely no idea how this works. Am I writing a blog. Ive tried this before and I am REDUNDANT cause I dont think anyone would be in the slightest bit interested in reading my blog, therefore what exactly is the purpose of a blog. Is it for my eyes only? (then I'd much rather write in a diary made of paper) or is it for other people to spy at my so called blog-diary or is it an ego thing..where I write and oooh hope hope hope that some day someone will read what I have written...OR is for the person who eventually reads this to post a comment and enlighten me as to WHAT EXACTLY IS A BLOODY BLOG!

Lookign out the window, storms in Ireland, the trees look like they hurt from the wind relentlessly trying to knock them over. Irish trees are as strong as the people, firmly rooted.

Barcelona, old friends and lots of fun on the way. Taking every day at a time.